


Discipline

by Dlt111



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: BDSM, Comfort/Angst, Coping, Eren beats Levi, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Power Play, inner workings of BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlt111/pseuds/Dlt111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's said that the strongest men need help releasing their emotions. Most of these men turn to a power abuse struggle, others hand control over to someone they love and spend a moment of vulnerability with their loved one where they empty their emotions. </p><p>Today, Levi's releasing his emotions on me like that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this from a fic in another fandom that I read several years ago about a CEO and his wife. This has been bugging me for some time so please enjoy!

I know this isn’t what anyone would consider a healthy relationship… but this is exactly what we need. He’ll never admit it to anyone ever again: saying it to me once was more than he wanted to do to begin with. But… as I stare into those stormy grey eyes I have no desire but to soothe that storm away into nothing but a gentle grey blanket that I can wrap myself in. There’s only one way to settle those cloudy eyes, though, and while it makes me ill to do things like this, especially to such a man, a man I adore and worship, I know I must.

“Tell me… _Humanity’s Strongest_ how many did you let die today?” The way we always start these sessions off. He looks at me and the despair I see struggling to reach past that impassive face stabs at my chest. I continue, voice still biting and filled with hatred, channeling all I had from those damn titans that created this man from nothing and brought him back down to the nothing that is before me.

“How many brave souls did you _collect_ to enhance your own strength today? How many did you silently pledge to use to be the _hero_ everyone needs? _How fucking many men and women were eaten today because you weren’t strong enough to overcome the titans and fight like a man?!_ ” Those strong eyes widen some, the apathy he held so highly, the stoicism he wanted everyone to think he had is crumbling before my very eyes.

I can see that it is a rougher than normal day. I can’t keep up with the soft play if he needs so much more. So I move from words to actions, his words echoing in my ears _“This is just my opinion, but when it comes to teaching somebody discipline… I believe pain is the most effective way.”_ I raise my arm to the wardrobe he had and feel around for the whip that will sting the most without cutting flesh. “The number itself, tell me, _Levi_. What is the **_NUMBER?!_** ”

He’s squirming now – nothing dramatic, hardly visible at all to the untrained eye. The slight shudder in his muscled shoulders as his chest quivers, the number he estimates dancing on those chapped and damaged lips. His hands are gripping the side of the bed lightly as if he were only resting them there, but I can see the rigid tension there that keep them petrified in that position unmoving, barely restraining from ripping the bedding apart. We both know the moment he managed to push that number out, I’d counter it with the actual number and he’d release the sheet, turn over, and I’d be given access to that back that I’d have to strip of straps, gear, and clothing before laying into it. Luckily, we’d both come to the conclusion that so long as nothing was ruined I could be as violent with the procedure as needed to keep the intensity and scene in progress.

He finally pushes out the answer I need, “I think… seventy-eigh-“

My moment to ‘shine’ has come. “ ** _WRONG! WRONG, WRONG,_ WRONG!!!** _It was **132 people, LEVI! ONE FUCKING HUNDRED, THIRTY-TWO!!!!**_ ” I take a moment of staring down at him intensely; heaving my chest before coming in close and whispering in his face in a way I know makes him uncomfortable. “That’s one-hundred thirty-two lives that were lost on this mission that can never be reclaimed, can never be replicated, and can never, ever be **_replaced_**. And… they were all lost because you aren’t strong enough, because you need more souls and wills to make you strong enough to do what the rest of us do without that kind of sacrifice!” I pull back and unsnap his first belt, then another, and another, making sure they snap against his chest and back occasionally as I speak. He only grunts as I snap him, not in enough pain to really bother with a proper release of his emotions.

When I yank his shirt and cravat off with a ruthless jerk, he knows it’s time to move on.  “Are you even the _LEAST bit_ sorry?!” I hiss at him. The eyes I gauge everything by tell me that he does indeed know and is completely sorry for something I often tell him really isn’t his fault… but he never listens and that’s why it’s come to this.

“Of course! I-“ He’s cut off by my hand around his neck, pulling him up from the bed to show him my strength and dominance – even as I internally whine about his weight-to-height ratio.

“For some reason, Levi, I doubt that. I doubt that very much! Let’s make sure you are sorry and TRULY appreciate their sacrifices. How about one lash per person you let die to a titan today?” This is the moment that he can stop the scene and decide how it ends. If he just says ‘Pie’ I’ll stop and this torment we’re both in will end completely; I’ll be free to tend to him and his impressionable emotional state. If he says ‘scones’ I’ll end up adjusting the number of lashes he gets but stay in character and push him to accept his perceived faults. If he refuses to say anything I’ll keep going like normal, but… please God, don’t let him say-

“Co-coff-ffeee…” Dammit! There’s the word that means I have to give him more. I almost call off the scene right there. Levi’s strong – the strongest – but he normally receives a maximum of 75 lashes and that’s when we’re being horrible to him. The number he’s proposing is over double that – triple even.

“Scone,” I counter, making it obvious I’m not okay about it. It’s the first time I’ve used one of our safe words for him. “Fine… A straight 150 then?” he tosses out as he looks at me and the whip, desperate but understanding of my hesitance. It seems like an okay deal considering how much more he wanted.

“I reserve the right to decide where to stop.” The protests dangle dangerously on his lips, but I know he won’t let them leave. He has no one else that he can trust to do this; that can do it safely enough. His nod makes me sigh in relief and I continue with a simple, “Coffee.”

“I think there were some pregnant women… so you should beat me 150 times to ensure that every sacrifice is fully acknowledged and used.” I gather my courage as he speaks, knowing how relentless I’ll have to be and how careful I’ll need to be with using my remaining stamina. I have to consider the fact that we’ve only literally JUST gotten back, barely just housed our horses and my wounds are still closing up. If I’m not careful with this many lashes, I’ll end up stopping the regeneration.

“You’re right… The likelihood of there being pregnant women among the ranks of the dead is pretty high… And even if there weren’t, the potential for life that you’ve _RUINED_ makes it justifiable to hit you 150 times, you **fucking** waste of space and time!” I move back and raise the whip, hitting him as hard as I could.

“ ** _REPENT!!!_** ” I yell at him as I start. As I crack this painful instrument at his flesh, he lets out a small cry, showing just where he is in his emotional release. He’ll need a lot more beating to help himself get over this horrible mission. I crack the whip again and yell again.

“ ** _BEG FOR FORGIVENESS!!!_** ” Another hit,

“ ** _APOLOGIZE FOR BEING A HORRIBLE SOLDIER!_** ” The resounding crack echoes again.

“ ** _FOR FAILING ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE!_** ” This time I get a cry out of him; a simple wordless sob, but still, it’s what I’ve been looking for.

“ ** _FOR GIVING EVERYONE HOPE WHEN YOU’RE NOT HOPE! YOU’RE THE MUSCLE THAT KEEPS HOPE IN LINE!”_** I know to be careful how I tread here lest I ruin my own mental state by recalling certain things about today.

I continue hitting him until I hit him a total of fifteen times before bending over him and running my hand along his reddened back, hissing in his ear as I distract myself from my words by checking the state of his back, “And you’ve failed there, too.” Now I have a small tear threatening to come out of his eye.

I pull back and begin my assault again before I lose my nerve and stop. It’s never easy to beat the man I love so much… yet I do it often enough. I stop every fifteen lashes to assess him and to hit him mentally with some line that I unconsciously spew out; unable to listen to those lines myself for my own sanity.

He’s buried his face in the pillow now and I know the pillow is wet. I’m about to deliver the last lash, number 150. I brace myself because this next step is the hardest. I delay a moment too long and the beginnings of the word coffee start coming from the pillow, my cue to hurry the fuck up. He can’t hold his sobs in too much longer. A deep breath and the whip cracks one last time before falling to the ground.

“You’re such a failure, Levi that I can’t even stay with you anymore. I’m done with this shit. I’m leaving you and going to see if there’s a titan out there that will eat me and save me from just how disappointing and worthless you are.” A quick spin and I’m on my way out the door, slamming it loudly, stomping next to it, making sure it sounds like I’m walking away. Then I listen for it, the soft sounds that tell me he’s getting what he needs, the chance to fully sob and grieve all of those lives he feels are on his hands.

I give him a little bit longer before silently walking in, closing the door quietly, and going to him. The very hand that’s hit him so many times gently pets the welts they created. “Levi, my captain, I am here. Heichou, I’m here for you.”

He turns and grabs onto me, sobbing loudly and releasing everything much like a child. As I gingerly stroke his back, he falls into me and I am allowed to experience the most vulnerable and heart-breaking Levi there is to behold. He trusts me with his pride, innermost worries and insecurities, and is relying on me to help him through it. The sweet nothings I whisper to him help him heave harder even as I intend them to dry his tears. Later he’ll deny this ever happened, but for now, I’m going to hold him and give him everything he needs.

It’s a good hour before he’s done and goes to his bathroom to clean up. I just strip down to nothing and lye on his bed, waiting. He’s not the only one who needs punishment and correction after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Should I make a chapter two?


End file.
